


Taking Hold

by rudennotgingr



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fix It Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudennotgingr/pseuds/rudennotgingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The same two paths flared to life in her eyes, one pointing to the Doctor born for war...the other pointing to the Doctor born for love. Her pulse pounded wildly in her veins, throat going dry. The Moment. It hung in the balance, determining the fate of so many, not just her own.</p><p><em>Shouldbeshouldbeshouldbe</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. Sadly, I do not actually own Doctor Who. A bit of a 50th fix it to soothe my soul.

"Yeah, that's gonna happen." She grinned, knowing that the man before her would indeed kiss her, several times in fact. Well, not really her. Rose Tyler, the _real_ Rose Tyler. Not her, couldn’t be her, never her...should be her.

The Doctor in the long tan trench coat froze, just out of her reach, always just beyond her grasp. She could hear the skip of his hearts before they returned, beating faster in his chest. He faced the only one of the three that could see her. "Sorry, did you say Bad Wolf?"

She could hear the panic and the underlying wishfulness in his voice, could see the searching look on his face in her mind. She didn’t need him to be facing her to know how his face twisted into confusion, fear, hope. She knew him well, this Doctor, all Doctors. Knew him better than she knew herself, knew all that could be, would be, won’t be...should be. Her heart ached, or she felt what she imagined an aching heart would feel like. A deep pain constricting her chest, breathing hard to do without sending pain to the rest of her body, a never ending current of hurt. This shouldn’t happen. She shouldn’t _feel_. Not like this, never like this.

This Doctor, the one outwardly reacting to two little words, had lost Rose twice, the pain of her absence driving him to the brink of suicide and insanity. The previous body, the one with big ears and piercing blue eyes, had grieved the loss of of his people, but had healed with the love of a compassionate human girl. The incarnation standing before her now had loved Rose fiercely, but had been too afraid to cross the line from friends to lovers. For a brief shining moment, the opportunity had arisen again...but in the end he had given her the greatest gift he could. He let her go. Giving her a mortal version of himself that was free to love without the pressure of the universe weighing down on him. He had suffered so much. And he had more still to come.

He turned to her and she smiled wistfully, knowing he wouldn't see her. She was nothing more than an interface, a visual representation. Yet, she felt a strange stirring within, a deep desire to reach out, an almost painful need to touch him, hoping...hoping she could give him one last gift, one more moment in time. A moment his next body would repress and try to forget. But a moment this him would cherish and take with him to the end of his song. It would never happen, was never meant to happen...should happen.

His chocolate eyes widened in shock and he stumbled backwards, arms waving wildly in the air, dust stirring with his unsteady footsteps.

She glanced behind her, finding nothing but a beaten wooden wall. She looked back to discover him staring directly at her, his younger self watching with open confusion. The other him seemingly distracted, waving his hands in the air as he spoke to his dark haired companion.

She arched an eyebrow as his dark eyes continued to watch her, his mouth flapping uselessly open and close, open and close. A tremor ran through his body, he leaned forward, barely choking out a single broken syllable, "Rose?"

Her spine went rigid, eyes popping wide. She looked around frantically, wondering if the real Rose had suddenly appeared behind her. Nothing. Her body hummed with anticipation, surely there was no way he could...

She hadn't heard him move, as if he appeared before her without taking a step. This regeneration had been like that though, a big ball of wound up energy, bouncing and bounding from one place to the next. But given a specific focus, all the energy narrowed in and he flowed silently, like a predator.

His eyes searched her face, tracing every line, every curve. She found herself holding her breath, heart thundering against her rib cage. Time lines wavered around her, some burning bright like the sun, others merely an echo of where light had once been. They stretched out, gently touching him and then retreating, testing. _Shouldbeshouldbeshouldbe_. She was vaguely aware of the younger regeneration watching the interaction with interest, no doubt wondering what his future relationship with Rose Tyler actually entailed. He made no move to stop...whatever it was that was happening. She didn’t know, the time lines had blurred, shifting, moving, uncertain could be’s forming and then vanishing over and over again.

"Rose?" His voice was a little more steady, but she still detected the waiver of uncertainty. A handful of time lines snuffed out completely, replaced by other, brighter tendrils hovering around them.

He was so close, she could see individual freckles on his skin, could see the new lines that had formed on his face, lines of sorrow and regret. Lines that never should have been. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted, and she wanted, wanted more than should be possible. She didn't move, too afraid her hand would pass right through him, too afraid of what was still hanging in the balance, one wrong move wiping away all the new possibilities. It was too much, she was bursting with excitement, sure she would combust on the spot. She bit her lip, awaiting his next move.

He reached his hand up, placing it gently against her cheek. She leaned into his trembling touch, sighing and closing her eyes, an unfamiliar sensation spreading through her body. His fingers were cool, yet a warmth seeped from them into her cheek, slowly flowing through her system, fueling a fire that had long been dormant, embers sparking to life.

He gasped, snatching his hand back as if she had burned him.

A strangled cry escaped her lips as she fought the unusual sense of loss, her hand covering the place where his had been. Her body was trembling, urging her to go after him, screaming for more of his touch.

The floppy haired version of the Doctor looked from Clara to his former self, eyes narrowed. "What is it exactly that you're doing?"

She watched carefully as the pinstripe clad Doctor tore his gaze from her to look at the older Doctor over his shoulder, shaking the hand that touched her around in the air, golden tendrils snaking around his wrist. Tighter, tighter, tighter. The fire was blazing within her, driving her need to bring him back to her. Could be. Should be.

"Can you not...?" His eyes slid to the younger man who shook his head. He looked back at her, realization dawning on his face. "Ohhhhh."

The air was buzzing with possibilities, with new paths spreading wide before them. Paths that they wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t see. Only her, always only her. She saw them all, knew which ones would bring pain, suffering, loss, regret, mistake followed by mistake. But there were those, smaller and less likely, that were marked with love, life, hope, always hope. Raging desire turned into seething anger. It wasn’t her choice, it was never her choice. Should be her choice.

Green eyes flicked between his past selves, irritation bubbling beneath his calm exterior. "Can I not what? What can't I do? I can do anything, same as you two. We are the same after all, and I am older." He clapped his hands then straightened his bow tie, waiting for an answer.

A shiver ran down her spine, temporarily clearing the fury and desire coursing through her veins, allowing her to once again think straight. He couldn't see her, neither could his companion...oh what was her name? Clara! Yes, this one was Clara. Why couldn't they see her? No, why could he see her...he shouldn't. She was only supposed to be visible to the one in possession of the Moment. The device that...used to have a big red button. She wrinkled her forehead. It had changed back into a box. When had that happened?

He was in front of her again, some unknown emotion glinting in his dark eyes. The air grew heavy, something was shifting, something was coming. She gasped, golden light blinding her, two paths shimmering before her, all other smaller possibilities no longer visible.

The older incarnation spun around on the spot, eyes wide in panic. "What's happening? What's going on?" He dashed to the device, whipping out his sonic. "Why is it a box? It wasn't a box before. It was a button, a big red button. I love a big red button." He eyed the sonic then flicked it shut, glaring at the youngest Doctor, the reason they were here in the first place.

He shrugged his leather clad shoulders, shaking his head. "I'm not the one you should be asking."

Her pulse raced, the air shifted again, becoming thick and oppressive. Breathing heavily, she tried to focus, tried to ignore the two time lines blazing before her. She felt more than saw the brown figure that had been before her retreat a few paces. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the sounds in the small area, able to pick out which Doctor moved where based on footsteps alone. Eyes closed, she could still see events unfolding before her, knew all the possibilities before they happened. Sound merely reinforced which path they were following, golden light still burning the edges of the darkness that encompassed her vision.

The two older Doctors circled each other, the box lying on the ground between them, kicked up sand glinting in the sunlight that peeked through cracks in the wooden slats that made up the walls and ceiling.

"Care to explain?" The older Doctor’s voice was harsh, biting, an air of superiority he hadn’t earned coloring his words, blinding him to the truth.

"Explain what? Don't you remember?" The younger man didn’t buy it, didn’t lash out, kept his taunts small, little things that crept under your skin, itching and scratching until they drove you mad. She knew this game, this game of words.

"Remember? Of course I remember!" There was a pause, the only sound being the scraping of boots and trainers in the sand. "Remember what, exactly?"

A laugh filled the silence, loud and without true emotion, mocking and cruel. "Oh, this, this is brilliant. You really have forgotten haven't you? And not just this, but the Time War itself. We never wanted to kill the children, of course not, who wants to kill children? But think about what you've just suggested we do? Seal them away, with Rassilon and his band of war crazed followers."

She dared open her eyes, slowly, carefully. The two lines had dimmed, barely glowing. They were fading, things were changing, smaller lines forked out, drifting in the air.

"What are you on about?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. You know me, well you, as in yourself. Gob won't stop. Shall we then?"

"Then what was all the," he thrust his hands forward, whiggling his fingers, "and the," he jerked his hands back, pressing the palms against his chest, "for? Hmm?"

"Oh, that? I've had a rough couple of years." He fixed the other man with a hardened stare. "Or did you forget that as well?"

"What? No! No, of course not."

"Then you know what state I'm in. Probably beginning to hallucinate. Thought I saw an Ood. Lovely creatures, the Ood. Except when they’re telling you your song is ending. That, now that is just plain rude. Right, anyway. Just ignore me. Ready?"

Rose opened her eyes fully, both timelines burning brightly and then fizzling out of existence. She blinked, vision refocusing on the two men standing on opposite sides of the cube, regarding each other carefully. One had his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, placating grin on his face and rocking slightly on his trainer clad feet. The other's eyes were narrowed, jaw clenched to the side, hands balled in fists that hung at his sides.

The oldest Doctor cracked his neck, twisting his head from side to side. He looked pointedly at both other Doctors. "Right." His face broke into a grin. "Geronimo!"

Rose watched as he and Clara disappeared into his TARDIS. The grind and whir of the engines started and then faded away as it dematerilized. The remaining Doctors looked at her then at each other.

The older man stepped closer to the cube, lying seemingly forgotten on the floor. "You know what needs to be done."

The other Doctor sighed. "Yes. Which means he _will_ figure it out."

"He's the one that forgets, remember? By the time he remembers, it'll be too late."

"If you're sure."

"I am. Best if you keep her. He represses your time the most."

"Very well."

The brown haired Doctor turned on his heel, swallowing hard as he looked at her. There was such sadness in those eyes, such pain. A pain she knew he felt he deserved to carry. He was wrong. She wanted to touch him, take him in her arms and tell him it would all turn out alright. But she didn't know that. Her time sense was failing her, what was crystal clear moments ago was now hazy and out of focus, as if a decision still had to be made. Could be, should be.

He walked past her, sand stirring in his wake. Her heart sank, blood drained from her face, leaving her fair skin a ghostly white. Moisture gathered in her eyes. Where those...tears? She gripped the wooden crate beneath her, knuckles turning as white as her face. She squeezed tightly, each splintering of wood shooting daggers of rage into her heart. She was an interface, part of a seinient weapon, a machine of war. Of course he wouldn't stay with her. She had been naive to think so. Maybe choosing this form had been a mistake. The feelings and emotions were nearly overpowering, logic too readily tossed aside for foolish things like hope and love.

Rose Tyler was a fool.

They could have been, _should_ have been. Would never be.

.....

Tea. Gallifrey saved and they were all drinking tea. How British. She rolled her eyes, leaning against the TARDIS her current Doctor, the one with white hair, was piloting. Clara was sitting on a bench and the three Doctors were admiring a painting. She laughed bitterly to herself that they were standing youngest to oldest, even though it appeared to be the other way around.

"Well, I believe you still have something of mine." The Doctor in the middle placed his empty cup into one of his coat pockets, moving to stand in front of the youngest Doctor.

Rose narrowed her eyes, wondering what he was talking about, squashing the familiar sensation of hope beginning to flutter in her chest.

The oldest Doctor laughed. "Borrowing from myself again, I see."

The other two looked at him, eyes wary as his laughter echoed around the room.

He stopped mid guffaw, frowning. "You two aren't laughing. Why are you two not laughing?" He clinked his tea cup angrily on his saucer.

The leather clad Doctor pulled something from his pocket. It was the Moment, the box had shrunk in size, fitting into the palm of his hand. But there was no mistaking it.

The same two paths flared to life in her eyes, one pointing to the Doctor born for war...the other pointing to the Doctor born for love. Her pulse pounded wildly in her veins, throat going dry. The Moment. It hung in the balance, determining the fate of so many, not just her own.

 _Shouldbeshouldbeshouldbe_.

The sound of porcelain shattering filled the room. The Doctor wearing purple sputtered, trying to understand what was happening. "What-what are you doing?"

The path leading to the youngest Doctor puffed out, white smoke dissolving into the air. The other path glowed brighter, the golden light blinding her eyes. It grew and expanded, over taking her field of vision, she pressed her body fully against the TARDIS, afraid the golden flames would swallow her whole. She shut her eyes, but the light only shined brighter. Her nails dug into the wood, blue paint chips flaking under the pressure.

"What needs to be done." His voice was low, almost a growl, tan covered arm reaching out and snatching the box from the other man. He shoved the Moment into one of the pockets of his pinstriped suit and stepped towards her, an approach she didn't see.

"But you can't!" Green eyes of the oldest Doctor flashed in rage, body twitching, not sure what action to take.

"Doctor? Doctor, what's happening?" Clara's voice rose higher, panic creeping into the edges.

"Not now, Clara!" He glared at the younger men. "You cannot do this!" He dashed forward, but was blocked by the solid form of the Doctor in leather who took hold of the older man’s arms.

The two scrabbled with each other, but Rose saw none of it. She was still cowering against the TARDIS, mentally holding off the flames only she could see, body trembling with effort. Helplessness washed over her, resolve crumbling and the ease of giving in to the raging fire called to her, warm and inviting.

Long fingers gripped her hand, twining between her own. Her eyes snapped open, dark irises looking back at her and dancing with familiar excitement. The flames were gone, a new path decided.

Rose took in his wild appearance, his brown hair standing on end, more how she remembered. She tightened her fingers around his own, ready for anything. He grinned and leaned closer, breath ghosting across her face, sending shivers down her spine. "Run."

He tugged her into his TARDIS, laughter bubbling up from her chest and over her lips as their feet thudded against the metal grating. His dance around the console was awkward, jerky and off beat, as he hurled the ship into the vortex. She didn’t mind, he had kept his hand firmly in hers, iron grip keeping her anchored in a sea of euphoria and disbelief.

The Moment was coming.


End file.
